


Acquired Taste

by norcumi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Crack, GFY, M/M, Multi, Sex Pollen, background mention of Qui-Gon/Tahl/Micah Giett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-03 22:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12156378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: Qui-Gon had told Obi-Wan next to nothing about the occasional diplomatic trips to the planet, and both Masters Tahl and Giett had died years ago. Those three had been the only beings to successfully negotiate terms with the Meirionuns, who were reclusive and basically seemed to think the Republic beneath them, for all that they allied with them. He appreciated that they wanted to make their allegiance clear, and he appreciated even more that they weren’t aligning with the Confederacy, but the locals seemed to think that he had a much, much better notion of how things worked than he actually did.It turned out that he had even less idea than he thought.





	Acquired Taste

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to those who helped this random ficlet into being, with support and encouragement: Dogmatix, Flamethrower, Charity_Angel, and TheAceApples, who pulled double duty as beta reader. <3333 to you all.

Rex was fairly certain his guide had taken him down this particular corridor twice before. It’d already been a strange enough evening that it didn’t register as very odd, which said some things.

Meirionu was a decently populated planet in a system of the same name, pretty distant from a lot of convenient hyperspace lanes. They weren’t technically a part of the Republic, but they had wanted to express their support for the GAR, requesting the presence of General Kenobi explicitly. Rex had heard that Kenobi had spent a significant amount of time complaining that there was still a war to be won, but scuttlebutt also had it that the Council had insisted, due to some historical connection that no one had been able to explain to Rex before they’d made contact.

While Skywalker, Senator Amidala, and a number of the troops had been present for some thankfully brief speeches, the local officials had invited the Generals, the Senator, Rex, and Fives to stay for a formal meal. They were supposed to have some kind of fancy send off the next day, and while Rex appreciated the pomp and circumstance with regards to tokens of respect for the cause, he desperately wanted some privacy.

He thanked the Meirionun when it indicated a specific door, wondering yet again why the locals had quite so many tentacles. They were humanoid, but they and their cultural norms didn’t seem to be immensely in line with either Core values or Mandalorian ones.

It still nagged at the back of his mind: they were most insistent that Fives was invited to stay for dinner. While Rex appreciated that the men were represented, the selection process had been vague but immediate.

He came to a sudden halt as the door closed behind him. The room was large for quarters, holding an absurd amount of cushions, a lot of gauzy things that might be meant as blanket alternatives, and lounge sofas, with the incongruous terminal and swivel chair at the far corner of the room like something slightly distasteful but necessary – the actual necessary seemed to be in a side room. No door, which was weird, but it had both sonics, water shower, and either a pool or submerged bacta tank that looked like it had water spigots.

Weirdly luxurious, and weirdly lacking in typical furniture.

It also contained General Kenobi, who stood near the center of the room with a wry, bemused expression.

“General?” Rex asked, thankful that he managed to not croak the question in shock, because no doors, no privacy, and ‘just’ the one person Rex would have the most trouble bunking with short of Ventress herself – albeit for very different reasons.

“Captain?” Kenobi turned, looking puzzled. “Hm. Odd. I didn’t realize they were rooming us together.”

Force, he hoped he didn’t blush visibly. Rex allowed himself a moment of resentment to the locals and relief for mental shields because it’d been months since he could look at the General and not have immediate inappropriate thoughts that started with admiring the General’s looks and evidence of his battle prowess. If left unchecked, it usually turned pornographic, with the odd occasional result of something he could only call ‘cuddly’ before he had to give up and just shoot some clankers because at least that made _sense_.

“I tried to follow Fives, but they stopped us and insisted brothers do not room together before splitting us up.”

“No, that’s...that’s in line with the local customs. My master was one of the primary diplomats to the planet for years, and I never got to come along on those missions due to blood relations don’t room together and then vague nonsense that at the time I took to mean he needed a bit of a break from a student’s constant presence.” Before Rex could get offended on Kenobi’s behalf, the Jedi chuckled. “Truth be told, I was glad of the breaks. Being around someone that constantly is sometimes trying. Besides, they said the same thing to Anakin and myself when we thought we were coming alone.” That outrage was nipped in the bud with a bit of a vengeance. “I can’t tell exactly where he is, but he seems steady enough in the Force.

* * *

In some ways, Anakin couldn’t imagine a more perfect opportunity. The locals had wined and dined them – weird food, but none of it was moving and they didn’t get offended if you turned things down, aside from that one weird last after-dinner mint thing. The locals then escorted everyone off to rooms, taking different paths that felt like it deliberately looped around in circles a few times, and then they dumped him off in a lavish place that didn’t believe in furniture, but sure believed in lounging.

They’d apparently already escorted Padmé here, and she was already on the com talking to the local assigned as her guide because –

Well. That was the way things weren’t perfect. ARC Trooper Fives was standing at almost embarrassing parade rest off to the side, helmet tucked under his arm and gaze focused on the far wall as Padmé went through another round of trying to explain why this rooming arrangement might not be suitable for her as a diplomat, and the local went through another round of insisting that no, this was proper.

* * *

ARC Trooper Fives was dying inside. The only reason he could manage to not wear his bucket was because he’d had batchmates of Echo and Cutup, and learning to keep a blank face had become a requirement. The problem was that he’d only ever learned a ‘good soldier’ blankness, and anything beyond that rapidly fell apart because he just wasn’t as good on his mental feet as certain of his brothers – Echo and Cutup and Droidbait – not when it came to bullshitting superiors.

So that meant he could only stand there while his General alternated between resentful little looks his way and nerf eyes at the Senator, who was politely trying to talk her way around the locals to boot him out of the room – not that he was offended. He totally understood.

She was failing, and his heart went out to her for that. The Senator was officially his favorite civilian, and she was a terrifying warrior in all the best ways, and oh yes, in a very committed relationship _with his General_ , which was incredibly unfair because General Skywalker was one of the best, most insane, downright _pretty_ humans in the entire gods damned Jedi Order. 

Slag it. His groin plate was too tight again, dammit.

The only good thing about this entire mess was that Echo was back on Coruscant, enjoying his ridiculous self hacking together increasingly absurd security encryption instead of being here, able to mock Fives mercilessly about his wildly inappropriate set of crushes. Also on the plus side, Captain Rex wasn’t around to notice either.

* * *

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and tried again to look away from Captain Rex, only to reencounter the fact that the local culture didn’t seem to believe in furniture when it came to living quarters. That was not helping whatsoever. He couldn’t recall Qui-Gon ever mentioning that, which was odd because he usually complained a great deal about lack of decent chairs.

It was actually a bit of a problem: Qui-Gon had told him next to nothing about the occasional diplomatic trips to the planet, and both Masters Tahl and Giett had died years ago. Those three had been the only beings to successfully negotiate terms with the Meirionuns, who were reclusive and basically seemed to think the Republic beneath them, for all that they allied with them. He appreciated that they wanted to make their allegiance clear, and he appreciated even more that they weren’t aligning with the Confederacy, but the locals seemed to think that he had a much, _much_ better notion of how things worked than he actually did. 

Qui-Gon had been far more closemouthed and vague about these missions than usual, and Obi-Wan’s research through the Archives had turned up mission reports to the Council that were the epitome of Jinn ‘I don’t want to talk about it so I shall throw a lot of syllables around the situation instead.’

As much as Obi-Wan appreciated beings talking circles around the Council, it made the mission more of a question mark than he liked. He hadn’t expected the locals to send an invitation to Padmé Amidala at the last moment _and_ behind his back, but she had been on the _Resolute_ – for legitimate reasons, even – and thus in the area enough that it was convenient.

Strange, but convenient.

It did give some credence to the old legends he’d also found in the Archive, which claimed that the locals had a strange relationship with the Force that included the ability to understand Force bonds like no other.

That uncomfortable thought dragged his attention back to his poor roommate, and Obi-Wan flushed.

No. Legends and coincidence, that was all.

* * *

Padmé had to work to keep a pleasant tone and expression as she thanked her contact for their time and help before closing the connection. She had to take a moment to compose herself, because this was... _unfortunate_. 

“Well.” She turned to face Anakin and ARC Fives. “It seems this wasn’t in error. I’m afraid I didn’t have time to prepare my usual luggage, so I have to ask if either of you know how much surveillance we’re under.”

“On it, sir,” ARC Fives said, turning and pulling a scanner from his belt. Anakin shot him a disgruntled look before closing his eyes, gaining that stillness that meant he was using the Force.

Padmé had to fight down a strange mix of emotion. The clones as a whole knew the difference between “sir” and “ma’am,” but in her experience “ma’am” was reserved for non-military that might be offended by use of a non-gendered title. It was a sign of respect – probably unintentional, but respect nonetheless – that he’d called her that.

She had more fondness for ARC Fives than she perhaps should, but she and Anakin had had a few... _telling_ discussions. He didn’t even seem to realize that when she accidentally let some compliments of the troopers slip, he just agreed without comment or disgruntlement. His typical jealousy didn’t seem to be set off by the men he worked and lived with (fought beside, ordered to their deaths, and mourned along with). She’d filed that information away, but it’d never seemed relevant.

It probably wasn’t, but watching the soldier efficiently and diligently check the room over for bugs, Padmé couldn’t help but once again admire the view.

* * *

Fives didn’t mean to run the scan twice, but he couldn’t bring himself to trust the results the first time. Weirdly, the results remained the same. 

“Nothing,” he muttered, stepping away from the wall and glaring at it. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Same,” General Skywalker declared, coming out of a Force trance. “I’m not finding any electronics that are out of place, and Fives’ scans would’ve picked up anything being transmitted. I think we’re not actually being watched.”

“Is that standard procedure?”

The Senator sighed as she stepped away from the terminal. “We are here for diplomatic reasons, on their invitation, and there’s no clear separation between public space and private space here. If everything’s on the level, then...yes, it is.”

Huh. Politics being legit. Now there was a strange thought.

Still better to concentrate on instead of how it seemed uncomfortably warm.

* * *

Rex shifted, his armor feeling weirdly tight in a way he’d have to examine later – perhaps when the mission was over, or when Kenobi was off diplomatting so as to not make things more awkward than they already were. He needed to focus on the mission. Now was a good time for an extra debrief, probably. “The mission specs were pretty sparse. Is there anything I ought to know about the locals?”

General Kenobi made a rueful noise and gave a few hand signals for Rex to search for any espionage devices before his eyes hooded as he did the same with the Force. “I wish my debrief was more complete, to be honest. There were exactly three people that were familiar with local customs, and they’re all dead now. One of the problems with institutional memory is that certain tasks get assigned to those who can deal with them, and unless those beings are meticulous, then no one quite knows the minutia of their processes.”

Huh. Fair. “I take it those three weren’t?”

Kenobi snorted. “My master was never very adept at mission reports. Micah Giett was a weaponsmaster and his best friend – they were rather alike in their loathing of red tape. Master Tahl was more the sort to note everything, but she seems to have not bothered with any details about this. I can only guess that she presumed Qui-Gon would have noted things appropriately, given that he was leading those missions.”

Results for bugs came up negative. Good enough. “So were there any useful details you could find that _didn’t_ make it into the debrief?”

“Well.” Rex didn’t trust Kenobi’s thoughtful pause nor the twinkle in his eyes for a single heartbeat. “They either have seven genders or none; scientists haven’t been able to figure out which.”

Rex made a mental note that the planet was now off limit to a certain subsection of troopers, because they’d be trying to find out through repeated experimentation if nothing else, and if scientists hadn’t tried that already he’d never met a real scientist.

* * *

Anakin gave in to the urge to pace. He wasn’t usually this restless, but something about the whole mess bothered him and he couldn’t quite pin it down. “That’s good. They trust us, but they still have some very strange demands.”

“Yeah,” Fives said, “between the rooming and that berry thing they’re awfully bossy.”

What? “They didn’t serve any berries on the menu that I could find. Most of the fruit was citrus.”

Fives scowled. “The after dessert thing they hand fed before they let anyone leave.”

“Along with that odd blessing,” Padmé said, nodding. “Though mine was caramel.”

Anakin bit back a frustrated moan, because he could imagine that too easily, and there were times when Padmé just...did this – this _thing_ to his self-control and right then he wanted nothing more than to stride over, catch his wife by the shoulders, and chase the smoky-sweet flavor of caramel as far into her mouth as he could. “Mint,” he made himself say, his voice sounding flat to his own ears. “And what does ‘Find successful completion, and may your joy be echoed across your united souls’ mean, anyways?”

“Screw coherency, comfort, and privacy?” Fives muttered, crossing his arms and taking that hipshot stance that made him look like he could take on an entire Sep battalion and not even bat an eye at the trouble.

Anakin gave himself a firm mental shake. No. Married. Not okay. Married people did not stare at their friends like that. Generals especially did not stare at their soldiers like that, let alone want to compare the sharp sweetness of berries with caramel, swapping back and forth between Padmé’s durasteel determination hiding as delicacy and Fives’ coarser, more blatant strength.

Oh _Force_ , what was wrong with him? Normally he had those sorts of thoughts under control, kept properly under wraps.

“Gentlemen?” Padmé was not helping, not with that husky tone she got when she was about to be mischievous and inappropriate in the best ways. “Does anyone else feel _strange_?”

* * *

Obi-Wan was struggling with himself the way he always did when around Captain Rex. There was a part of him that was never quite Jedi enough to detach from people properly, a part that craved contact and intimacy. It was always worse around those who were clever, and competent, and–

Well. Yes.

Admittedly with Captain Rex if was less often a matter of wanting contact, and more about wondering how husky his voice got if he was utterly wrecked, whether he got louder or quieter when–

Wait. Wait, that wasn’t normal. It was admittedly true, from a certain perspective, and he would be lying if he pretended to have never considered the perspective of licking his way down–

“Sir?”

Obi-Wan wrenched his thoughts back to the present, trying hard not to flush too much. “Yes, Captain?”

He didn’t know what to make of that expression, the conflicted look nor the unusual way that Rex seemed to be fidgeting.

“I’m sorry sir, I need to go walk the perimeter for a bit. Is that liable to offend our hosts?”

“It might – my escort indicated they expected us to be here until the midmorning meal.”

Captain Rex looked almost ill, not disgruntled as Obi-Wan would have expected. “That might be a bit of a problem. Ever since dinner ended something seems to – seems to be disagreeing with me. I’m not – my mind’s scattered, and I was hoping a bit of exercise would clear out the problem, whatever it is.”

It was automatic to reach out and passively test the clone’s mental shields. It shouldn’t have been intrusive in the least: the troops had been trained to shield their thoughts, and even before that they had the mental reserve of beings who grew up surrounded by others, and personal possessions and space were at a premium. Obi-Wan expected to find the usual rock solid surface, perhaps reflecting a bit of agitation underneath, like dim lights far underwater.

Instead he found the shields cracked through with arousal, letting slip random bands of thought that were more emotions and hints of visuals than anything solid.

It was more than enough, given how often Obi-Wan could witness himself in the starring role as the target of what he could only call pining. There was such a strong undercurrent of denial to it all, as if Captain Rex were shouting throughout his mind, ‘No. This is not permitted.’

Obi-Wan mentally reeled back. Outwardly, he just ducked his head and pinched the brow of his nose. Something was still off, there were elements he was missing but maybe, _maybe_ if he just slotted some more pieces into place – 

Dinner ending. “Captain.” He didn’t mean to sound sharp, but he couldn’t quite help himself. “ When you were fed the parting food, they said something. No one bothered to translate it for me, but it seemed to take longer for everyone else. Did they– ”

“Find successful completion, and may your joy be echoed across your united souls,” Captain Rex recited, his voice falling into the odd cadence that the local language inflicted on Basic. It was eerie mimicry, which distracted Obi-Wan from the actual content for longer than it should have.

Then he wanted to either beat his head against the wall, or find a way to resurrect Qui-Gon Jinn just to almost strangle the man. As a teenager, Padawan Kenobi had noted the occasional double entendre and innuendo when Qui-Gon talked about his trips to Meirionu. He’d done his best to not be too immature and giggly about it.

He’d never realized it’d probably been _intentional_. “You know, Master Plo talked to me about this mission before we left Coruscant.” He didn’t look up, though he could almost feel Rex’s focus upon him. “Apparently once upon a time Qui-Gon didn’t make it to one of these diplomatic retreats because Micah Giett had gone and injured himself, so Plo offered to attend in his stead. He informed me that it was odd, how firmly Qui-Gon turned the offer down, but I suspect that while they were good friends, there was a little problem where I don’t think Master Jinn was interested in Kel Dor.” 

He was rather surprised that the silence stretched out for a count of seven before Captain Rex spoke. “This was _supposed_ to happen? What– _Why–_ ”

Oh. _Oh_ , gods. “Legends,” Obi-Wan murmured, grief almost swamping him. “Legends about Force bonds.” Suddenly, Qui-Gon’s near breakdowns over Tahl and Micah’s deaths made horrible, tragic sense. He made himself move past that, setting aside old grief he’d been able to do little about at the time, and could do even less about now. Instead, Obi-Wan looked up and met Rex’s confused, angry gaze. “Captain, I’ve a very strange, inappropriate question for you.”

* * *

Oh, Force, there was no way that question could end well. Rex braced himself and nodded, because he knew exactly how well ignoring that tone worked.

“Would I be correct in thinking that I’m not the only one in this room that believed any sort of more intimate interaction, ranging from a rare cuddle to an outright relationship, would be impossible?”

Rex gaped. That– Well– “Sir,” he protested weakly, not wanting to answer even as he was struggling through unreasonable lust to understand. ‘Not the only one?’ That couldn’t mean what he thought it meant.

“Captain.” For all that Kenobi took a resolute stance, tall and proud, he closed his eyes, and the cant of his head was enough to hint at shame. “Jedi do not – are not permitted to want, not the same way other beings do. Not with our abilities, not with the potential to skew minds and influence others.” He swallowed, a motion Rex couldn’t help but to stare at. “A General, meanwhile, has to moderate his Attachment, because to put the good of one over the good of many has so much potential to destroy so very, very much.

“Nonetheless, Captain Rex, I will admit that for awhile now I have been...more interested in daring those risks anyways.”

...oh. That was– He hadn’t expected that. Rex had to look away, coming to grips with the implications. Force bonds – whatever those were. Mutual interest. The locals apparently thinking aphrodisiacs without warning were any sort of a good idea.

 _Mutual_ interest. 

Rex stepped forward, almost nose to nose with the Jedi. “Hope you don’t mind that I want like the average person.” Then he kissed Kenobi, trying to express every last scrap of desire he had for Obi-Wan that didn’t actively involve groping the man or bearing him down to the floor.

When they finally pulled apart, Rex had the genuine pleasure of seeing Obi-Wan’s eyes flutter open, the Jedi speechless and yes, visibly wanting. They just stared at each other for a long moment, then Obi-Wan smiled. “What could there possibly be to mind about that?” he asked, before kissing Rex again.

* * *

“Strange...how?” Fives dared to ask.

The Senator shot him a speculative look he couldn’t interpret. “Agitated. Restless.”

“Aroused,” General Skywalker snarled, eyes hooded then closed. “Dammit, there must’ve been something – I’m not that good at filtering out chemicals– ”

 _Shit_. “They poisoned us?!”

“Not poison, I don’t think.” Trust the Senator to keep her head. “That blessing – ‘successful completion,’ ‘united souls’ – I’m willing to bet those had some kind of aphrodisiac to them.”

Double shit. Fives shook his head. “No doors, but I still have my blasters.”

“I’m going to– ”

“Ani, no.” She had a solid hold on Skywalker’s arm, and Fives got confirmation he didn’t really need. The _look_ those two had, the communication between them – he knew a matched set when he saw it. As if she could hear his thoughts, Senator Amidala jerked a look over at him. Then she blinked. “You already knew.”

He shrugged and otherwise ignored it in favor of a relevant point. “Look, I have my blasters, there’s plenty of cushions, use the stun setting on me and– ”

“Absolutely not!” the General snarled. “You’re a _person_ , not some inconvenient obstacle!”

“Anakin?” When the General twisted to look at Senator Amidala, she frowned at him. “Whatever’s going on, it’s affecting all three of us. Obi-Wan was probably exposed too. Can you tell if he’s all right?”

Right, General Kenobi was the senior officer and diplomat, so that was a good choice. General Skywalker frowned, then looked uncertain. “He’s distracted, but – I can’t tell more than that.” 

“He would’ve warned us if he knew,” Fives said.

“But no reason to think he wouldn’t be affected. So he doesn’t think this is malevolent.”

“Padmé, we three are stuck in a room together, getting increasingly affected by whatever this is, and Fives and I can’t even retreat to the bathroom or whatever because there’s no door there either! That’s not malevolent in the least? _Really?_ ”

Fives tried, he really did. He was working hard – hard, whoops, wrong word dammit – to keep his expression stoic, but the notion of being caught in a small locked room with General Skywalker hopped up on sex hormones was too much. It had to have been written all over his face, and he outright whimpered at the notion because holy Force what he wouldn’t give for that. 

Senator Amidala noticed. She went still, and Fives tried to project ‘yes I want but I understand you two have this thing so I wouldn’t no matter how much I want.’ He was seriously considering self-application of a stun blast when the Senator spoke up.

“All right, we’re not under surveillance, and Fives just indicated he knows about...us.” Both the General and the Senator flushed, but she rallied swiftly. “So I need to ask a very strange, very important question.” Whatever it was, Fives could see the question was going to be a doozy just from the way the Senator had to firm her back to meet Skywalker’s eyes. “Anakin, if we shared Fives, where would you want us to be? Would you want to be surrounded by us, or him, or me?”

Skywalker froze, making some kind of wounded, wanting noise.

Fives wasn’t doing much better: he was wide-eyed, almost stunned, and had goosebumps just at the dizzying impossible notion. Damn, but the sheer _want_ almost swamped him. “But you two are a, a thing, a couple!” He was not a part of that, and he knew it.

The Senator rolled her eyes. “Even as archaic as Naboo can sometimes be, that doesn’t require anyone to be exclusive.”

“It doesn’t?” Skywalker asked in a dazed tone that matched exactly how Fives felt. Then he did a doubletake at the General, because he’d never figured out non-clone norms for bunk buddies, and he would’ve thought that Skywalker would’ve known.

Amidala looked confused. “It – what? No, Ani, it doesn’t.” Amidala paused, then stepped up to Skywalker, hand to his cheek. “Anakin, listen to me. What we have is special, but if both of us know and agree to bring someone else into what we have, and they know and agree to it, then what of that reduces what we have?”

Skywalker had this longing look that tried to sideslip away from Amidala – which Fives had no idea what to do with. “But....” He was clearly looking for words, but not able to find them.

“Ani. I love you. I love my parents, my sister. I know you love Obi-Wan. How does our love for them diminish the love we have for each other? It’s different, but not less, or more.”

Skywalker visibly wavered, then glanced over at Fives. Oh gods, that longing look – it _was_ directed at him. “I – I don’t know what’s going on, but you have a say in this too.”

Fives hesitated, taking in a deep breath. “Sir– ” He stopped, shaking his head. No, not if this was really happening. “ _Anakin_. I’m sorry if this is insubordinate, but yes, _I want_. Both of you. How could I not?”

Anakin looked at Padmé, and she had a gentle smile for him that seemed to convey some kind of message Fives couldn’t quite understand. 

Then Anakin grabbed Fives by the pauldron, hauling him in close for a long, deep kiss. Fives could taste mint, while the size and gods damned strength of a _Jedi_ was right there, keeping him in place and almost daring him to match that strength with sheer brass and oh, he couldn’t recall ever being this hard in his life.

* * *

Padmé watched Anakin pull back, pupils blown wide and dazed smile on his face. He kept hold of Fives even as he turned to her. She leant in and could taste mint and berries and gods, Ani wasn’t normally this confident. He was never aggressive, almost reverent so much of the time, like he thought she’d shatter at the first hint of indelicate handling. 

She knew herself well enough to admit she wanted to see him worship Fives that way, wanted to see him trace that lovely tattoo with fingers and tongue before trailing down to kiss him again. Ani, with so much power of the Force at his fingertips, slow and careful with the handling of a man created for war and combat – yes, she wanted that.

She also wanted to see Fives handle her with the same unwavering confidence she’d seen him employ with weapons – not rough but _certain_ , unhesitant and direct. 

“Fives,” Anakin murmured. When they both looked at him, Ani flushed. “If we’re sharing, then I want to actually share with Fives. He should be in the middle.”

Padmé had seen enough of the clones that she’d seen many an expression on them. Never before had she encountered such a reverent look. “Are you actually serious?” Fives asked.

Ani nudged her mentally, dropping a pretty picture into her mind the way he did when words failed him, or he found himself floundering about for phrases and was worried it would end up like the coarse sand incident again. “Mm, I like that.” She circled around them so that Fives was between her and Ani – and she could see the way his eyes widened, how he was very aware of that fact. She pressed forward, gently pushing Fives’ chest-plate until he bumped back into Anakin. “There’s a lovely height difference there,” she murmured, smiling as Fives looked over his shoulder, only to be greeted with a slightly awkward kiss. 

Gods, but they were pretty together. When Fives turned back to her, eyes blown wide and practically radiating arousal, she went in for her own kiss. She finally pulled back to breathe, and she smirked. “What do you think, Fives? Ani spooning behind you, his cock between your thighs and yours inside me – is that something you’d want?”

He gave a delightful little growl, kissing her again, this time as aggressively as she’d imagined. “Absolutely!”

* * *

Rex walked next to Obi-Wan, trying not to flush every time one of the locals made any sort of eye-contact. It helped that none of them seemed to think anything odd was going on – there were no significant looks, no knowing smirks or sly examinations. They all acted like everything was normal.

It got weird when they entered the meal hall, and from one of the other corridors Skywalker, Amidala, and Fives emerged as a group. There was something very different about their body language, a little more casual and far more comfortable with each other than Rex had ever seen.

“Oh my,” Obi-Wan murmured. “I do hope Fives is a bit better about keeping clandestine relationships secret than Anakin is.”

Oh. _Oh no_. Rex tried not to sigh. Somehow he wasn’t too surprised. “He’s worse.”

“Oh dear. Back to pretending blind ignorance, then?”

Rex hesitated, then decided it was worth it. “Must we?” he asked, stopping to turn and face Obi-Wan. They just stared each other in the eyes for a bit, then Obi-Wan smiled, slow and sweet and just enough to make the lines around his eyes crinkle into being. 

“I suppose not,” he murmured, leaning forward to place a light, gentle kiss on Rex’s lips.


End file.
